Round the Corners
by Verbosely
Summary: Harry was as terrified of the scaled man as he was in awe of him, but he'd long since decided that this new world was just like that: miraculous with the stipulation of ease. Yet, what price would anyone pay for magic? Harry might be only nine years old, but with more clarity than most adults, he understood the answer to be anything. Everything, if need be.


Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time or Harry Potter. Just think of me as an immature college student playing in my imaginary sandbox with action figures...Because that's basically what I am.

Chapter One

_Awaken_

The world dropped.

Deathly still—air tense with trees' baited breath as a respectful hush cloaked the forest. On the ground, shadows thickened and bred until they merged into one thriving mass of darkness. Overhead, the sky stained purple and crimson; the land bled its warmth. An unseen horizon devoured the sun with deliberate contemplation.

The scene stole the air from Harry's lungs, but whether from terror or awe, he couldn't say—both, probably. However, his mind and senses were so overloaded with their attempts at processing that to actually analyze was just… too much.

_What happened?_

Around him, the methodical songs of insects lilted through the leaves. The familiar sound was cruel and taunting as shivers wracked his body.

Time passed and Harry lingered.

It was cold and he was alone, aching from the top of his unruly head all the way down to his sweaty, protesting feet. The trainers he wore were four sizes too big and rubbed sores into his sock-less skin. Curled beneath him, the blisters seared.

It was this slow and building pain that helped clarity back into his mind. Not immediately, but the reverie began to lose its hold until Harry gradually felt more grounded as the seconds passed. His ears popped and the world shouted. Pupils grew and the encroaching night molded shapes. Most of all, he felt the weight of his body press crushingly into the earth as gravity bore down on his small shoulders.

The pained voices of his body demanded so much so loudly that his mind struggled to think past the baser instincts they invoked-safety, food, pain relief. Rational thoughts were squeezed out thick and slow, but they gained fluidity as urgency set in. He couldn't remember how he got there.

The last thing he did remember was recess at Primary, but there'd been nothing unusual about it. He'd just been especially tired because Piers Polkiss had spent the night with Dudley and made a game of staying awake through morning.

Normally, this wouldn't have been too much of a problem-Harry was used to sleeping through noise, and he'd been so tired from pulling weeds all day that he'd been sure that nothing could interrupt his rest. Unfortunately, this surety was destroyed the moment Dudley kicked his cupboard door. Startled from sleep, Harry'd hit his head on a shelf, provoking an outburst of snickers and further kicks on the door.

Heart racing and angry, Harry'd been too filled with adrenaline to fall back asleep that night, and he'd spent the following school day tired and harassed. He was scolded twice for almost nodding off in class, and he'd rested against the school building during recess in lieu of walking the track like usual.

He was sure that Dudley's gang must have taken the opportunity to harass him even further, but there was no memory beyond him resting against the school wall. No "Point A" that would lead to the strange "Point B" he'd found himself in.

_. . ._

_Where am I?_

No answer. Silence.

A soft breeze caressed his red cheek. Sniffling, Harry wiped it away.

Joints popped as Harry sat up and crawled to a nearby tree—pressed his back against its cooling trunk. His threadbare shirt caught on the flaky bark and lifted itself about his shoulders to expose his lower back to the cool breeze. His bottom dampened quickly through the seat of his jeans, but Harry didn't care. Darkness had deepened and it stalked closer from all sides. Within it, the mysterious sounds of unseen forces beckoned. Pulling his knees close, the boy hugged them as an icy finger traced his spine.

After a few moments of stillness, Harry freed his hands to gaze at them, feeling more than seeing the moist dirt which clung there. If he looked close enough, he could make out the normally invisible lines of his palms stand out darkly against his skin. With a sniff, Harry rested his mouth on his knee and tried to bring the lines together-rubbing his two hands until dried dirt fell in clumpy showers. When the boy finished, there were more patches of pale skin to shine in the night, but he was still filthy. A few more swipes of his palms gained no further progress, until he simply stared at them through the darkness.

The sensations followed steady after. All of a sudden, Harry's nostrils flared and his lips thinned. His hands trembled. But, it was the unexpected desire which hit him that crumpled his face and brought tears to his eyes.

He wanted his cupboard.

He wanted the familiar compactness of its walls with his blanket and pillow. He wanted his toy soldiers and the frayed, naked wood of the stairs above.

Familiarity: comfort. But, there was neither in sight. Harry was alone, and that terrified him.

At the Dursley's, Harry was always surrounded by people. His aunt and uncle didn't trust him enough to leave him alone in the house without breaking or stealing anything, and though he was in his cupboard most of the time, his little room was in the middle of the house—just outside the family room, below the stairs, and within feet of both the front door and kitchen. Ironically, it was the perfect place to observe the house's happenings—a crossroads, if you will, where the boy was surrounded by family even if he was never a part of it directly.

He'd hover at frayed edges like an unwanted, ghoulish specter—close enough to be made aware of, but existing on a different plane.

He'd grown up this way-alone, surrounded by people-so he wasn't used to it so much as not consciously aware of it. Loneliness was a familiar companion. He lived with it every day. Being alone, however, was a whole other story, and the boy felt the strange concept leer now at the corner of his vision, rustling leaves and molding creatures out of shadows.

He supposed that he should move. The idea was paralyzing enough to be rejected immediately, but Harry didn't see another option. A policeman had visited his class once and said that if any of them got lost, they should either find another officer or stay where they were until someone found them.

Well, Harry didn't see any police-people around, and he doubted he was anywhere too far from the school. There were always trees and wooded areas around their part of Surrey, but they were never very large. If he just picked a direction and walked, surely he'd come out the other side eventually.

_He ignored the small voice that said the trees stretched further than he imagined, that the noises echoing faintly came from creatures a part of the bigger picture stretched unseen._

Harry took a deep breath and prepared to stand, but got no further. Minutes passed and he kept a hand pressed to the tree's flaky surfacec. His fingers trembled and clenched.

By the time Harry pressed his weight into the tree, his palm was sweaty and there was a spot balder than others on the trunk. He was hardly able to stand, though, before the bushes behind him rustled.

Heart in his throat, Harry scrambled away, slipped on some moist leaves, and nearly reamed himself on a root. The fall worked in his favor, though, because as his footing returned to him, his body's movements were just so that he caught a glimpse of what lurked behind.

At the sight, his body froze and a small gasp escaped his lips. Immediately after, he fell to the ground again. This time, he stayed.

Caught off guard by the change from frantic clumsiness to stillness, milky eyes gazed curiously down at the boy. Frozen, Harry looked back.

The creature was tall, but the words seemed understated and contradictory. Its muscled chest was the lowest point visible above the foilage, putting it smaller than one's average horse, but there was nothing small or diminished about it. Dainty, maybe, but elegence fit better. There was strength and fluidity there that made its shortness an advantage rather than a weakness-like it was built for speed and dance rather than labor.

Its head was all small lines and curves, eyes bulbous orbs that stuck out on either side, fanned with long lashes. Set utop a curved neck, the combination seemed too lengthened and slender to appear correct. However, it wasn't without design. Combined with the long slope of its body, the odd features melded together to slide one's eye inevitably up-towards the crystal horn which gleamed coldly on a broad white forehead.

With this single focal point, the odd individual features suddenly gained purpose. It was a perfect draft with many pieces come together to create something beautiful. Other-worldly.

Because, other-worldly was what it must be. Harry could not imagine something like this ever existing in the same _dimension_ as Privet Drive.

But, the being stood there, before him. Its body glowed from within and the sludge-like night cleared as soft white light penetrated it. Through the glow, its white coat gleamed achingly and forbiddingly smooth. But, with a shimmer, it flashed silver as muscles rippled beneath liquid flesh.

Then, without a sound against leaf-covered earth, a light gait carried it away like a wisp in the breeze.

* * *

For a while, Harry remained where he was—eyes wide and breath ragged as the noise of the forest turned back on around him.

Numbly, Harry's eyes fixed upon the dull skin of a hand which hovered plainly before him, fingers outstretched searchingly. With dull realization, he recognized the hand as his own, and pulled it back to himself with a tremor.

Then, he rose like a shot.

Sharp twigs dug and caught painfully on him, but the boy pained them no mind. With effort, he shoved himself into prickly bushes, and with a loud rustle, stumbled through to the other side.

Then, Harry Potter straightened to stand in the wake of a unicorn.

Ragged sneakers rested upon trodden grass flattened by hooves, and spectacled eyes rose to follow their path. No sight of it remained, but in the air, Harry liked to think that he could feel the creature's warmth linger, caressing his cold flesh.

The young boy gazed into the thriving darkness and deep within himself, he felt something without words swell. It weighted down his chest and thickened his throat, but more than anything, it made his heart patter and ache for something unnamable and precious.

There, in that black forest, lost and completely alone, the child cried silently and without abandon. Not because he was hungry, or cold, or scared. None of that mattered.

Hot tears poured over red cheeks and the lost boy smiled.

Because for the first time in his life, Harry Potter knew—Harry Potter _believed_.

* * *

**AN: **Hey guys! Posting this chapter now is probably a bit premature, so I apologize. It's kind of an impulsive decision, and I'm avoiding homework, so... My plan had been to write most of the story before I began posting it, but months have passed, Summer's almost over, and I'm only a few chapters in. I should have realized it sooner, but unless I have something hanging over my head to get me going, I'm a bad procrastinator. Posting this one chapter and knowing that people might be reading it and (maybe?) waiting for the next one is enough to make things seem real enough that hopefully I'll freak out and kick it into gear.

I need your help, though. I can't do it alone. Feedback isn't just for ego-boosting, I swear. I love writing, but I'm incredibly shy, and actually finding the courage to start writing and posting things is hard. I want to become a better writer. The best way to do that is to write more and get feedback. Plain and simple.

On that note, comments of all kinds are appreciated. Really. Tell me what you like, tell me what you don't like, and tell me why. Let me know what you hope for and look forward to reading, that'll be fun to hear. Please, ask questions if you have any. I'll answer as much as I can without spoiling anything.

Also, updates will come, but be patient. There will be a break period between this chapter and the next, but I plan on picking up a regular schedule once RL clears up and I can get things more organized. Anyway, writing doesn't come fast or easy to me, either. I tend to be really wordy and awkward (just look at this author's note), and my Username is actually a personal reminder of that fact. So, proofreading takes a while, because you do NOT want to see what my first drafts look like. Yikes. Plus, I have no Beta reader. Just me here.

Few more things before I go! Pairings will be based on canon. Harry will not be paired with anyone, because he'll be a little boy for...the whole story. He's about nine years old, here. Rumpelstiltskin will feature prominently, but be patient. Author notes will not be as long as this introductory one, and chapters will be longer than this...also introductory one. So...

Next Chapter!

Harry is excited by the possibilities implied by the existence of unicorns. Suddenly, the forest doesn't seem as scary as it is exciting, but the excited little boy is still a lost little boy, and the reality of that begins to dawn as hunger sets in. Luckily, though, Harry's found a road, and who knows where it might lead...


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